


Who can lift it higher

by Estelle (Fielding)



Series: B99 Season 7 Countdown Project [14]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Episode: s04e13 The Audit, F/M, Missing Scene, NSFW, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 15:50:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22251955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fielding/pseuds/Estelle
Summary: “Oh, no, he has a really big wiener, doesn't he?”Jake’s got some self-esteem issues, apparently. Amy decides to do something about that. Takes place during The Audit.
Relationships: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Series: B99 Season 7 Countdown Project [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1588849
Comments: 13
Kudos: 93





	Who can lift it higher

**Author's Note:**

> Story No. 14 of my Season 7 Countdown Project. This is NSFW, readers!!

Jake’s in bed before Amy, re-taking the Buzzfeed quiz that tells him which Golden Girl he is because obviously he’s not Rose, come on. He glances up at movement in the doorway, does a double-take, and then quickly sets the phone on his bedside table.

“Uh,” he says. That’s all he’s got.

Amy is standing at the door, her hair pulled back into a perfect bun and a pencil tucked behind one ear. She’s wearing her giant glasses, and a sensible tweed skirt with a button-down white shirt tucked in. She’s clutching a hard-covered book to her chest.

She looks like a librarian. A regular librarian. Jake’s dick gives a twitch.

“I realized something today,” Amy says, walking slowly toward the bed. Jake pushes himself up a little higher against his pillows.

“That I’m your favorite person and you love to give me nice things like librarian sex?” Jake says.

“No, I already knew that,” Amy says. She stops at the end of the bed, reaches for the pencil. “I realized that I forgot to add you to my ledger.”

Jake has no clue what she’s talking about but his dick jerks again anyway.

“You see,” Amy says, holding up the book now, “I like to keep a record of everyone I’m...with. Just for my own research.”

She gives a little shrug. Jake swallows hard. His boxers are becoming uncomfortably tight.

“Your research.”

“Uh huh,” Amy says.

She opens the book and flips through the first few pages. Jake can just make out Amy’s familiar neat writing, in tidy columns and rows, and then she pauses on a blank page, smoothing over it with her fingers. She sets her pencil to the page and he watches as she prints his name in careful, even block letters.

God, he has no idea why it’s so sexy watching her write his name, but his dick is at full-mast now.

Amy sets the book – the ledger – at the foot of the bed and reaches into the pocket of her skirt, pulling out a long yellow strip of ribbon. No – measuring tape, Jake realizes.

“You’re going to measure me?” Jake says, his voice coming out a little strained.

“I’m going to measure all of you.” And she flips back the blankets.

It’s been a warm spring so far, and Jake’s been sleeping in just his boxers and a T-shirt. Amy notices his erection right away – it’s hard to miss, Jake’s not too proud to admit – and gives a satisfied-sounding hum before looking up at his face.

“Remove your shirt, please,” she says, and something about her tone – all business – make his breath catch a little.

Jake pulls the shirt over his head and drops it on the floor, and of course Amy rolls her eyes and picks it up so she can fold it and set it on the dresser. When she turns back to him she’s holding the measuring tape in both hands, and she pulls it tight with a small snap.

“We’ll start with your head,” she says, and instructs him to sit up straight.

Amy wraps the measuring tape around the top of his head, muttering a number to herself before picking up her ledger again and making a note. Next she measures the distances between various spots on his face: ear to ear, ear to nose, brow to chin, eye to eye. She’s clinical and efficient, eyes trained on the specific spots on his face and on her tape. Her fingers feel cool, and soothing, against the heat in his face.

She tells him to open his mouth as wide as he can, and she hums a little to herself as she measures the diameter of it, side to side and up and down.

She pulls the tape around his neck, tight enough that when he swallows it scratches into his skin. “Please hold still,” she says, “you’re throwing off my calculations.” And then she pulls it a little bit tighter.

Her sharp gaze on him makes his skin tingle, and he enjoys the way she bites her lip and narrows her eyes as she holds the tape in place and studies the tape measure. She adds numbers to her ledger after each measurement, and even the sound of the pencil against paper is doing something to him. His dick stays hard the whole time and when she shifts on the bed to measure his far arm, her elbow brushes over the length of it. He bites down on his lip and swallows a moan. She doesn’t say anything, though her arm strokes across him again as she leans back.

She holds the tape against one nipple, pressing the cold metal tab at the end into the nub, and he sucks in a breath. When she stretches it across his chest and presses the tape into his other nipple, it’s like an electric spark has traveled the distance. Suddenly his dick is throbbing.

Amy seems to take her time reading the number, adjusting and readjusting the tape so it scrapes across his nipples, before pulling away and moving to his hands. She measures the span of his palm and the length of each of his fingers. Jake thinks about the previous night, when he buried three of his fingers in her up to the last knuckles and made her come on his hand.

“Ames-”

She shushes him using her best librarian shush. He groans and closes his eyes.

Amy measures his legs – hips to knees, to ankles, to toes – and his feet. She places one end of the tape in his right inner knee and trails it up his thigh, and when she reaches the hem of his boxers she tuts to herself.

“Time to take these off.”

She tugs his boxers down with skill, lifting the elastic waist so it doesn’t catch on his dick, and pulls them off completely. Then she lets her eyes rove all over him, staring in a way that makes his skin burn. Jake has to grab the base of his dick to keep from losing it. He feels like a museum specimen, like something to be examined and preserved, even admired, and apparently that’s a kink of his. Who knew.

She starts at his knee again and slides the tape up his inner thigh, to the base of his dick where his balls have gone tight. Her knuckles brush up against him and he moans out her name.

“Just a few more measurements,” Amy says, sounding distracted.

Jake looks at her as she writes in the ledger. She’s standing over him, book in her arm, eyes down. There’s the small crease between her brows that she gets when she’s focused. A strand of hair has come untucked from her bun, and he reaches up to tug at it. She glances up at him, and her eyes are dark and luminous, and he knows she’s as turned on as he is.

She slips the pencil between the pages of her book and sets it on the table, then takes off her glasses and puts them aside too. She sits beside him and she picks up the tape again, and she holds his gaze for a moment before looking down at his erection.

Jake spreads his legs as she holds the tape to the base and slides it up the length of his dick to the tip. Amy licks her lips as she bends over to squint at the number.

“Oh,” she says, “that’s- hm.”

She leans over to write it down in the book.

“What-”

Amy presses a finger to his lips. “Almost done now,” she says. Jake sucks her finger into his mouth, slides his tongue over the tip, and she laughs before plucking it free.

She takes her time with the next measurements. She gets the circumference at the head and the base of his dick. She cradles his balls, her touch gentle and too light, and measures them too. She handles him like he’s something precious or fragile, and he keeps jerking his hips to try to push into her but she only pulls away. She measures along his perineum, pressing her thumbs into the sensitive skin there and making him squirm.

She measures the length of him two more times. He’s leaking, and he feels flushed all over, his dick too-tight and too-hot and throbbing.

“Amy, please,” he says through his teeth, when she’s bent over to write in her ledger again.

“One more measurement,” Amy says and he nearly cries in frustration.

But Amy sets the measuring tape on the table, and then she’s hiking up her skirt, hands disappearing underneath, and she pulls off her underwear. She grabs bunches of the skirt in one hand and then she climbs over him, on top of him. Jake grabs her hips just to have something to hold onto when he feels how hot she is, hovering over him.

“This is the one that matters, babe,” she says. “So make it count.”

She grabs his cock in her hand and guides him into her, slow and steady, and then she plants her hands on his chest and holds his gaze as she takes him in entirely. Her breath hitches when they bottom out, and she rakes her fingernails over his chest.

Amy feels incredible and his dick is still throbbing, inside her now – but he just holds her in place and stares up at her, because she is so sexy, and so beautiful, and he’s so in love with her.

And apparently he’s also got a thing for being taken by his fully-clothed girlfriend while he’s naked – another interesting self-revelation.

She undoes a few buttons of her shirt and he lifts a hand to push it back off one shoulder, and to trace a thumb over the curve of her breast, across her nipple. Amy sucks in a breath and grinds down onto him.

Jake moves his hand up, over her shoulder and to the back of her neck, to loosen her hair. He palms the back of her head and brings her to him and they kiss, and out of nowhere he needs this, needs all of her, needs her to  _ know _ . His kisses turn frantic and messy, until he pulls back just enough.

He says, “I love you. So much.”

“I love you,” she says and smiles.

Then he rolls them over, and he pulls out of her almost entirely and thrusts hard, and she cries out and grabs for his hair and begs “harder” and “fucking yes, Jake” and “oh god oh god” and “please.” And he’s moaning her name, and when he comes he buries his face in her neck, both of them hot and slick with sweat, and he feels her whole body seize around him as she comes too.

He’s panting when he rolls off to his side. He can feel her heart racing under his palm where he’s laid it on her chest.

“I do,” he says quietly, and Amy turns her head to stare at him, eyes gone hazy. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she says, and closes her eyes.

He kisses her once, soft and sweet, and feels her smile under his lips. Her heart’s slowed down, and he’s caught his breath, and he tucks his free arm under his head and stares at her profile.

“So, like, is Teddy’s a lot bigger?”

“Jake!”

“Or is it just misshapen? His wiener’s weird, right?”

Amy does not answer, and she does not let him look at the ledger. Eventually Jake learns to live with the not knowing. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> *Title is from Uniform On (Bash Brothers).
> 
> *This fic is not meant to re-ignite the dickcourse! I deliberately kept my opinion to myself.
> 
> *Does Amy actually keep a ledger? Ordinarily I like to leave those kinds of questions up to the reader. But in this case, no. Amy definitely does not. This is the book in which Amy keeps track of, like, Christmas present ideas for her nieces and nephews and a running list of her Stationery Needs.


End file.
